


10 Days of WLW Christmas

by reysrose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy needs all the help, Christmas, Cookies, F/F, Finals Week, Good guy Bellamy, Homophobic grandmas, Luna's first catholicism, Multiple Pairings, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, office parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reysrose/pseuds/reysrose
Summary: Tis the season to be gay. Merry Christmas, fellow the 100 lesbians!





	1. Someone's Sick Because It's Christmas (Clarke/Niylah/Octavia)

Octavia wakes up with a fever three days before Christmas, the morning the three of them are supposed to pile onto a plane and fly from Indiana to Scottsdale. It’s too late to cancel or reschedule their flights, and Clarke slams her laptop closed with a sigh. Octavia is curled up in their bed, dressed and ready to leave, but absolutely miserable. She lets out a series of painful damp coughs, the bed shaking. Niylah, who’s finishing up packing, shoves a water bottle beneath the blankets, and the coughing stops. Clarke slides her laptop into her backpack and tugs at the blankets until she can see Octavia’s eyes, fever bright and half closed. 

“We’re going to do something you are definitely not supposed to do,” Clarke says, tugging Octavia to sitting and fixing her messy bun.

“Oh yeah?”

Clarke huffs, squeezing Octavia against her side for a second and grimacing at the heat pouring from her skin, then putting her shoes on for her. 

“We’re going to take a sick person on an airplane.” 

It goes smoothly, not that Clarke is expecting that many hitches until they actually take off. Octavia is pretty clearly feeling awful, and when they board, she curls right up in the middle seat, puts her head on Niylah’s shoulder, and sleeps through most of the flight. Clarke rubs her back absently while she reads, checking her temperature with the ear thermometer she threw in her purse right before they left the house. It doesn’t go down, but it doesn’t go up a full degree either, sitting right between 101 and 101.5. O wakes up as they descend, face screwed up against the pressure change, still resting her head on Niylah. Clarke thinks they may have pulled it off, putting a sick Blake on a plane without catastrophe, when they taxi about three feet and then come to a dead stop at the end of a line of planes, all of which are trying to go where they’re going. She stares out the window at Camelback Mountain for a few seconds, the only lines of the Serenity Prayer she remembers from catholic school running on repeat through her head. 

“I don’t feel good,” Octavia murmurs, a clammy hand sliding into Clarke’s. She feels hotter than she has the whole flight, and there’s a damp patch forming on the back of her shirt from the fever sweat. 

“We’ll get off the plane soon, and then we can go home and you can sleep, yeah? Mom will have better meds than I do.” 

They sit on the runway for an hour. Octavia’s cough gets progressively more persistent, and Clarke holds her head against her chest as she gasps for air in between fits, stroking her hair. Niylah is texting back and forth with Abby. Octavia starts to cough again, pulling her face away from Clarke’s chest.   
“Deep breaths, Octavia.” 

There are tears streaking her blotchy cheeks, and then Octavia is crying hoarsely, looking unsure which of them to go to for comfort, so she just balls herself up and pushes her face into her knees. Clarke holds her hand as they disembark, kissing her temple when they make it off. There aren’t fresh tears, but Octavia is still upset. 

“I don’t feel good!” 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

Clarke keeps a tight hold on Octavia because she’s wobbling a bit, her fever higher from the feel of her. Bellamy and Gina meet them at baggage claim, her mother and Marcus getting the house ready. Octavia goes to her brother and pushes her face into his chest with a grumpy huff. He wraps an arm around her middle, and presses a kiss to Clarke’s cheek and Niylah’s temple. 

“I take it you’re sick, O.”

“Shut up, big brother.” 

~

She’s still sick on Christmas, grumpy and miserable. Abby had diagnosed her with bronchitis about three seconds after she’d walked in the house. Octavia curls on the couch while they watch A Christmas Story, sandwiched between Clarke and Niylah. Niylah presses her cheek to Octavia’s, tugging on the blanket shared between the three of them. 

“I’m sorry you’re so sick on Christmas, love.” 

Octavia smiles sleepily, giggling at the Scott Farkus Affair on the TV screen.

“It’s okay,” She mumbles, pressing her cold toes to Clarke’s legs, “at least I’m with you.”


	2. Finals (Octaven)

Octavia groans dramatically, drawing stares from other library patrons, and thunks her head down onto her textbook and stays there, shaking her head. They’ve been sequestered in this dusty corner of the library for hours, and Raven can see the moon out the window next to their table. She’s been able to see the moon for a long time. 

“We’ve been doing this for years.”

“Not years, baby. Maybe months, but not quite years.” 

Octavia groans again, turning her head to look at Raven. A page of her textbook sticks to her face, and Raven brushes it off. 

“I hate this. I hate studying, I hate finals, I hate college. Can I drop out and become a circus clown?”

Raven goes back to her lab report, scribbling down a few more words. 

“No, Octavia.”

“I’m never going to finish this paper.”

“You will if you get off tumblr and actually write.”

Octavia gasps theatrically, hand to her forehead and head tilted back like an old movie star. Raven snickers, her pen tapping rhythmically against her paper. Octavia may be a procrastinating pain in the ass, but she’s damn cute and knows it. 

“How dare you insinuate I actually ever do any work.” 

“You’re gonna fail.”

“Ugh. You’re right.” 

Raven reaches across the table and squeezes Octavia’s free hand. Octavia looks exhausted, bags under her eyes, messy ponytail tumbling out of her scrunchie. Octavia doesn’t deal well with stress. Raven knows she hasn’t been sleeping, and she’s been eating at weird hours and eating weird things. Raven rubs her thumb over the back of Octavia’s hand. There are tears gathering in Octavia’s exhausted green eyes. It might be time to go home. 

“Let’s go back to the apartment, baby, yeah?”

Octavia nods and sniffles, detaching her hand from Raven’s to wipe her nose. They pack up, and Octavia takes Raven’s hand as they leave the library. It’s chilly, the winter wind biting Raven’s cheeks and nose and giving Octavia a healthy pink flush. Octavia smiles, tilting her head up to look at the stars as they trudge across the muddy quad. 

“It looks like winter.” 

“That’s because it is.”

Octavia shakes her head, burrowing closer to Raven in her puffy coat. 

“It’s not winter until December 21st, Rae.” 

Raven rolls her eyes as they come to a stop at a crosswalk, watching cars go by, streaked with de-icing salt and dirt. Octavia’s chilly hand squeezes hers, and they finish stumbling home in the cold dark and pile into their bed, tugging the covers up over their heads and giggling. 

As it happens, they both pass their exams. And if Octavia didn’t turn in her paper until the absolute last second, nobody needs to know.


	3. Cookies (Clexa)

There’s a smearing of flour across the sharp edge of Lexa’s jaw when Clarke wakes up, stumbling into their tiny kitchen and wiping sleep out of her eyes. She’s on nights, a small price to pay for Christmas off. Lexa presses a kiss to her hair as Clarke sinks into a chair. 

“Smells good.”

“Mmm. Want coffee?”

Clarke nods, too tired to say words. Lexa washes her hands briskly before putting a pod in the Keurig and then going back to rolling out dough. Clarke can’t tell if it’s sugarcookie or shortbread. She sits and watches the corded muscles in Lexa’s forearms ripple with the controlled squeeze of the rolling pin in appreciation. 

The Keurig beeps. The spell breaks. 

“What do you want in it, baby?” 

“Vodka,” she mumbles, dragging herself to her feet and slip-sliding over the linoleum to the coffee pot. Lexa makes an irritated face, her nose and eyebrows scrunching, because Clarke is in her way. She puts some of the sugar on the counter in the mug before dumping the last of their eggnog in, just to see Lexa shudder in disgust. 

“Whatcha makin?”

Lexa hip nudges her into a corner of their counter and picks up her rolling pin again. Smooth creases of butter marble the surface.

“Shortbread.”

“Will you dip some of it in chocolate like you did last year? O loved it. She ate 80.”

“Of course.”

She edges closer and rests her head on Lexa’s shoulder as she rolls until the dough is just thin enough. Clarke sets down her coffee and scoops up the rectangular cutter, pressing it into the far right corner.

“You forgot to flour it first.”

“Shit.”

Lexa snickers as the cut cookie comes out and tears, taking the cutter from Clarke and wrapping an arm around her narrow waist.  
“You’re terrible in the kitchen.”

“That’s why I have you.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m your trophy housewife, Griffin?”

Clarke swats Lexa’s ass, scoops up her mug again, and curls back up in a kitchen chair to get away from the cookies and Lexa’s wrath.

“Yep. Now bake, trophy wife. Christmas is a-comin’.”

And if Lexa writes “fuck you” in icing on a gingerbread man, who’s to blame her?


	4. First Snow (Clarke/Octavia/Niylah)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 for 1 today because I didn't get one up yesterday. I'm getting over strep and a respiratory infection and I'm not really recovering well. 
> 
> This is in canon verse, IF they kept the valley.
> 
> ALSO!! I appreciate ll your comments and love! I'm terrible at responding to them because I'm hella busy, but please keep sending them!

The end of Wonkru sparks a dramatic change in Octavia. When Niylah approaches her with dark circles under her eyes, harried and frustrated, two months after they take the valley, Clarke isn’t expecting Octavia to be nearly catatonic in her depression. 

Clarke isn’t expecting Octavia to see her, reach a thin hand out from under the blanket covering her entire body, and tug Clarke into her arms. Clarke holds her, letting Octavia sob into her thin shirt, and doesn’t make it home that night. Madi is worried sick. 

It’s winter on the ground, and Octavia’s cheeks are red and windburned whenever she returns from a hunt, coming alive a little more each time. Clarke is off duty in the med tent and she meets the hunting party at the entrance to the square, letting Octavia place a freezing cold kiss on her mouth. 

“Cold!”

Octavia just grins, tugging at her gloves so she can wrap a bare hand around Clarke’s and tug her into a hug. Clarke rests her shoulder on Octavia’s thick coat with the fur lined hood. Clarke knows the adrenaline of leaving the town will wear off, and Octavia will be dark and moody that night. She’ll snap at them, hide beneath the covers and cry as they pretend they can’t hear her. With Clarke, Niylah, and Madi also in the room, it’s hard to pretend they don’t. 

“We got a deer, and a couple rabbits,” Octavia murmurs as they head back to the house and climb the stairs to their room. 

Octavia starts to cry silently in the middle of the night, not shying from Clarke and Niylah but clinging to them. Clarke rubs her back and watches as Niylah’s calloused hands tangle up the dark strands of Octavia’s hair. 

“What’s wrong, Okteivia?”

“I-I-I-”

The panic attack that follows wakes Madi, who sits in front of Octavia’s hunched form and holds her hands, rubbing the seized muscles. Clarke, who’s letting Octavia lean into her chest, Niylah’s smooth voice breaking the tension in the air. Octavia falls back to sleep, curled in the middle of the bed, wrapped up in Niylah with her head pressed to her chest, but Madi and Clarke stay up. 

“Nomon.”

“Hmm?”

She’s reading one of Madi’s favorite books quietly, stealing looks at Niylah and Octavia’s cuddle pile to make sure Octavia is still calm and sleeping.

“Look.”

Madi is pointing out the window and Clarke walks toward it, fear striking in her skull that maybe it’s a threat. Instead, Clarke sees thick, wet snowflakes. 

They wake up Octavia and Niylah, and drag Octavia, still sniffling and exhausted from her episode, out into the square as the snow continues to come down, sticking to the houses and the trees. 

Octavia opens her eyes and tilts her head to the sky, clinging to Niylah’s arm. Clarke kisses her jaw and then Niylah’s collarbone, just breathing. 

“It’s the first snow I’ve seen in 7 years,” Octavia breathes, still looking up. Her hair and lashes are frosted with melting snowflakes. 

“Is it worth it?”

“Yes.”


	5. Lights (Sea Mechanic)

“Baby!!”

Luna leans against the arm of the couch with her tea, rolling her eyes as Raven tries to reach higher in the branches of the little fir tree, cursing and covered in sap. Her head emerges from the branches, pine needles tangled in her hair. Luna sets down her tea and takes the strand of lights Raven thrusts at her before standing on her toes and trying to loop them up towards the top of the tree. Her brace creaks angrily as her knee stretches past its usual point and Raven grunts, clunking back onto her heels. 

“Get the ladder?”

Luna rolls her eyes, stepping up to Raven and wrapping her arms around her middle, resting her chin on her shoulder and looking at the tree. 

“Bellamy and Gina are coming over to help cook in an hour. Let him finish the tree, Rae.” 

“But I can do it. Get the ladder.”

Luna sighs and goes into the closet in the hall, tugging out the stepladder and rolling her eyes at her girlfriend who’s bound and determined to get the lights on the tree.

She braces the stepladder and then Raven’s waist as she swears and sweats, wobbling back and forth on the highest step. Luna can’t help staring at the way her brace strains and the way it creaks, but Raven doesn’t falter.

It’s the first Christmas with the injury. The first Christmas where they won’t be going on a morning hike or riding their bikes down main street after dinner. Raven is clinging to as much normalcy as possible but Luna knows her heart is breaking. 

“Done!”

Raven plugs in the strands to the wall and grips Luna’s hand, looking up at her hard work. 

Luna kisses her, watching the way the lights sparkle off her hair and obsidian eyes. 

They’re creating a new normal, and it’s definitely not all bad.


	6. We Tried To Fry The Turkey. It Went Poorly (Niytavia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I am still very behind because I have been sick for WEEKS. I'll catch up.

She’s nearly ready to kill Octavia, Bellamy, and Raven when they come in in the wake of a loud cracking noise, Octavia held between Bellamy and Raven, paling by the second. 

“Sit, now-Raven, go get Abby.”

Octavia has angry, blistering burns on her right hand and forearm, and patching on her neck and cheek. That’s what that noise was, then. The turkey exploding in the fryer. Niylah rolls her eyes. She knew that was a bad idea, but Octavia and Bellamy couldn’t be dissuaded. They did make the decision about three whiskeys in on Thanksgiving, after all. Octavia whimpers, her face screwing up. Niylah tugs her hair away from her face, examining her exposed skin for more blistering. There’s no charring, no white flesh peeping through, so no third degree burns. Abby and Raven enter the kitchen.

“Something’s burning- Oh! The potatoes.”

Raven runs to take them off the stove, and Abby crouches by Octavia, who’s trying to keep her face stoic and her eyes open. She’s always gone into shock easily. Niylah kisses her head, pointing out the burns on Octavia’s neck. 

“I told you frying a turkey was a bad idea,” Abby says, stern. Bellamy looks guilty, hand on his sister’s shaking knee. Niylah kisses her head again. 

“Deep breaths, Octavia. Can you elevate her legs, Bellamy? Niylah, can you hold her hand and arm so I can clean those burns?”

Niylah takes Octavia’s burned hand, lacing their fingers. Octavia squeezes, tearing up as Abby disinfects the burns on her cheek and neck. 

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

Octavia puts her head on Niylah’s shoulder. Niylah helps smear burn cream on Octavia’s tense arm, wrapping it in gauze. 

“Let’s go lay down, sweetheart. Bellamy, can you get her a gatorade?” 

Bellamy nods, helping his sister set her legs back on the floor and hauling her up by an elbow and a shoulder. Octavia takes a second to stabilize, still pale from pain, pressing her face against her brother’s chest.

They curl up together on the couch, Octavia’s legs tangling with Niylah’s. They rest their heads together, Niylah turning on the television without paying much attention. Greasy burn cream soaks through the layers of gauze on Octavia’s burnt arm. 

“That was stupid,” Octavia mumbles, sipping her Gatorade and snatching the remote. 

“Ya think?”

Octavia snorts, tilting her head back for a kiss. Niylah grins against her mouth. 

“It’s a miracle Bellamy and I survived to adulthood.”

Niylah giggles, pressing another gentle kiss to Octavia’s mouth. 

No more fried turkey, Niylah decides.


	7. I cut my hand open making Christmas dinner and now I'm in your ER (Clexa)

“Keep it elevated.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, letting Anya grab her elbow and force her hand higher in the air. A baby screams across the room, high and irritated. Lexa’s head throbs from blood loss and sound and she blinks hard. Blood is soaking through the yellow dish towel wrapped in her clenched fist and soon it will start dripping down onto her sweater. 

Why did she wear a cream sweater on Christmas of all days? The baby screams again, and when Lexa looks at it, its chubby face is red and glazed with snot. Eugh. 

“Woods?”

Lexa stands up too fast and lets Anya grab her arm when she wobbles. There really is a lot of blood on that dish towel. Like a lot a lot. The nurse asks if she wants a wheelchair, nervously. Lexa shakes her head and follows the nurse, Fox, her name tag says, to a bed with a dingy curtain around it. She holds out her arm from blood pressure, a finger for a pulse ox, and an arm for an IV line. 

“Your blood pressure is pretty low, and you’re definitely losing a lot of blood. I’m going to put on a pressure bandage, and start you on some fluids.”

Lexa nods, letting the tiny nurse wrap her bloody hand and start a drip. She flops her head back on the pillow, staring up at her sister and the swinging IV bag. 

They wait three hours for the doctor, Anya playing Temple Run on her phone and Lexa watching Netflix on her tablet with glazed eyes. 

“Woods, Lexa?”

Maybe it’s the blood loss, but when Lexa looks up from White Christmas and focuses on the doctor, she’s pretty sure that she’s never seen anyone that attractive. 

“Whoa.”

The doctor laughs. She has reindeer on her scrubs and a red scrunchie in her ponytail, and she reaches out to take Lexa’s pulse. Her hands are actually warm. Lexa can’t stop staring.

“Looks like you’ll need a few stitches, but the cut isn’t too terribly deep. Give me about 10 minutes to check on some other patients and I’ll get them put in.

“Wait,” Lexa blurts. The doctor turns around.

“What’s your name?”

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” 

Anya rolls her eyes. Lexa writes her number down on the paper covering of the hospital bed. 

Clarke Griffin calls her on December 27th. 

“How’s the hand?”

“Stings some.”

Clarke laughs, and it’s just as cute as it was in the hospital.

“I suppose I’ll have to take a look at it when you buy me dinner on New Year’s Eve.”

“I suppose you will.”


	8. This Is An Actual Twin Bed Holy Shit (Clarke/Niylah/Octavia)

“We’re going to have to sleep on the floor.”

Octavia sighs, plunking her backpack down on the green carpet and running a hand over the bedspread. The bed is crammed in the tiny room, against the back wall and leaving very little empty space. 

“It was my bed when I was younger. I didn’t realize Bell still had it, and I didn’t realize we were going to be the last people here.”

Clarke snorts, staring at the tiny bed. 

“We can make it work.”

They all cram together on the thin mattress that night, curled as closed to each other as possible. Niylah rolls onto her side in the middle of the night, and Octavia wakes up with a strangled yelp as she tugs her hair underneath her body with her movement. 

Clarke falls over the edge in the morning with a thump that wakes all three of them up, and Octavia kisses her bruises better in the shower while Niylah blow dries her hair for a little too long to cover up the sounds of their moans. 

They buy an air mattress at Wal-Mart once they come down.


	9. Finding a Tree (Clexa)

“We should have just gotten a plastic one.”

Clarke hums under her breath, taking another wandering step down the row of trees. Lexa rolls her eyes when she thinks Clarke isn’t looking, brushing some melting snow out of her hair.

“It’s snowing, Clarke. Like a lot.”

She hums again, a hand going to brush across the branches of a sturdy, short tree. It is snowing, fat wet flakes landing on her cheeks when she looks up at the clouds. 

“What about this one?”

Lexa props up a small, fat fir for her to examine, twirling the tree in circles. There are no holes in it, and the needles are nice and green. 

“Smack it on the ground, like in A Christmas Story?”

Lexa laughs, lifting the tree and smacking it back down in the snow. A few needles float down. Clarke goes closer, wrapping an arm around Lexa’s waist and stroking the hand down the branches.

“I think it’s perfect.


	10. Target is a wasteland right now please help me find something for my sister (Niytavia)

“What does my sister want for Christmas?”

Niylah looks from the eggs in the carton to Bellamy, snorting. 

“Isn’t it a little late to ask that question, Bell? It’s December 23rd.”

“Yeah, but you know how she gets around finals. Every time I would ask, I wouldn’t get an answer. Just an angry grunt and then occasionally a few tears.”

Niylah rolls her eyes, placing the eggs gently into the cart and then redirecting it towards the other side of the store. 

“Come on. She wants a teapot, and I forgot to look. We’ll get her one and say it’s from you.”

Bellamy finds a white one with constellations on it on a bottom shelf, tucked behind a row of solid colored mugs. 

“Perfect,” Niylah says, squeezing his elbow. 

They finish the rest of their shopping, then Bellamy heads to the tea isle. Niylah follows him, double checking their list as Bellamy lifts a box of Irish breakfast off the shelf and drops it in the cart, not meeting her eyes. He wipes at his, walking towards the check out. 

He doesn’t talk again until they’re in the car. 

“Our mother used to drink this. Of course, she added alcohol to it 9 times out of 10, but O was too little to know that. She just remembers that mom drank Irish breakfast.”

Niylah smiles sadly, backing out of the spot. 

Octavia cries when she opens the teapot and sees what’s in it, flinging herself into the arms of her brother and letting him hold her, rubbing her back. It’s a little piece of their mother again.

“Merry Christmas, big brother,” Octavia sniffles, still hugging Bellamy tight.

“Merry Christmas, O.”


End file.
